


Handprints

by NinetyWrites



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (Not tagging relationships at the moment because I'm uploading from mobile), Gen, Grunkle Ford's Portal Adventures, I just have a friendo who's REALLY good at prompts, I'm Sorry, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 18:45:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11363394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinetyWrites/pseuds/NinetyWrites
Summary: Ford goes to the wrong dimension and winds up on memory lane.





	Handprints

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I'm writing! And it's all thanks to skywing206.tumblr.com being an awesome friend and telling me to write. Go drop a nice message in his askbox.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Fun fact: transporting charred animal corpses across interdimensional lines is called feugrating. The most frequently feugrated animals are miniature cyclopses, followed by tentacle monsters, followed by sheep. Feugrated animals are often carried by hand. Now picture this.

Ford had just feugrated a vampire rabbit when he realized that he had stepped into the wrong dimension. He had been distracted after a scuffle with a customs official, and now he was in unfamiliar territory with unregistered cargo.

Fantastic.

He began to scan the ground for food, traps, anything that would help or hurt him in… wherever he was. He was standing on sand, and there was a body of water on his right. There was a large pile of rocks about twenty feet in front of him, obscuring his view of most of the beach. He took a step forward, and he heard a crunch beneath his feet. He stepped back and saw… glass?

His eyes widened as he got an idea as to where he could be, but he shoved the thought aside. Surely he couldn't be in  _ Glass Shard Beach _ . The chances of him stumbling upon his hometown in a parallel Earth were infinitesimal! And even if this  _ were  _ Glass Shard Beach, there’s no  _ way- _

“Don’t worry, Sixer. Those bullies don't know what they're talking about. Crampelter can go eat a lemon.”

Ford froze.  _ No, no. No. There has to be another explanation. _

“B-but…”

The voices were getting closer, he had to go  _ somewhere _ , but he couldn't move. There he was, paralyzed by his own memory.

A eight-year-old Ford and his twin appeared from behind the rocks. As they drew closer, Ford walked backwards, but to his surprise, they didn't seem to be able to see him. He tried to remember any previous interactions with objects in this dimension (maybe this was a spectator Earth), and he remembered stepping on the glass. Conclusion: He could interact with objects, but not people.

Younger Ford look at the sand. “...Stan,  _ look _ at me.”

“Sixer” - Older Ford flinched - “they're  _ wrong.  _ You're not any different from the rest of us because you have an extra finger.”

“Well, you  _ did _ just point out a difference-”

“Yeah, but it's not an important one!” He stopped, his face screwed up in concentration. After about ten seconds, his expression got a bit brighter. He seemed like he’d gotten an idea. “I'm gonna show you something. Let's go back to the hideout, yeah?”

“Sure.”

Older Ford, against the voice in his head telling him that the best way to destroy Bill would be to find a way  _ out _ of this dimension, followed the twins to their hideout, the rabbit still in his hands.  


* * *

The hideout was… pretty nice, actually. The boat was the obvious centerpiece, but Stan also had a table and chairs set up in here, with a chest full of what seemed like art supplies.  _ No, those are  _ definitely  _ art supplies. I may have a deteriorating sense of smell from the cinnamon incident, but I still know what paint smells like. _

There were two cans of paint on the table- green and orange. There was also a piece of paper.

Younger Ford spoke up. “A craft? Really?”

“Yeah, it's not that hard,” came the reply. Stan dipped his hand palm-down into the green paint and stamped it onto the paper. He then dipped his finger back into the paint to write out his name above the hand. “See? Simple. Now you go.”

Younger Ford blanched. “No. I can't do that.”

Stan sighed. “Yes, you can. If I can do it, you can too.” He opened up the orange can of paint and looked at Younger Ford, a soft smile on his face. The Ford who knew the risks that came with trusting Stan set the rabbit on the ground.

“Okay.” Younger Ford took a deep breath and hesitantly dipped his hand into the paint and pressed his palm and all six of his fingers onto the paper. He wrote his name below.

Stan was beaming. “You see, Ford? Your hand and mine are right there. On the same paper. Did anything happen?”

“...no.”

“Did the world blow up?”

“No.”

“Did Godzilla come out onto the beach and destroy everything?”

Younger Ford giggled. “No!” He punched Stan in the arm.

“So it's not a big deal! Wanna start fixing up that boat instead of just letting it sit there like we always do?”

“Yeah! I don't know how much we could do with it still in the cave, but we could probably…” Younger Ford rambled, possibilities bubbling out of him. He seemed happy.

As the smiling twins went over to the boat, Ford took a closer look at the handprints. He knew sentimentality wouldn't do him any good in the short  _ or  _ long run, but he hadn't seen this paper in  _ decades. _ He always hated to admit it, but he missed his Gravity Falls, and once in a blue moon, his early Glass Shard Beach. With his vision clouded by tears, he reached out and put his hand on top of the one that Ford had made. He took special care in lining up the fingers. All six.

  
When he pulled away, the handprint was coated in ash. A tear splashed on the rabbit at his feet.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think down below! Constructive criticism is always appreciated.


End file.
